


ice in your veins

by poe_daaaayyuuuumron8



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Canon Divergence, Character Death, Dead Floris | Fundy, Dead Wilbur Soot, Everything is a Joke to me, Fluff, Hurt/mild comfort, I have elected to ignore the non-canon aspects of the Sleepy Bois Inc, I'm a Techno apologist if you can't tell, If you can't tell, Implied/Referenced Cheating, M/M, SO, Set Before January 6th Stream, anyway, apparently there is, sleepy bois inc - Freeform, slightly ambiguous ending, the more you know, yo i didnt know there was such thing as nightmare before christmas fics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-07
Updated: 2021-01-07
Packaged: 2021-03-17 21:21:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28606650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poe_daaaayyuuuumron8/pseuds/poe_daaaayyuuuumron8
Summary: Fundy falls to the ground.He lies in the snow. He drifts further away every second.Fundy falls to the ground, chokes on the blood in his throat, and doesn’t want to die.Fundy falls to the ground, and there is no one there to hold him, to comfort him.Or:Fundy dies, and Dream realizes everything he has lost.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/Floris | Fundy, Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Floris | Fundy & Ranboo, Floris | Fundy & Wilbur Soot, GeorgeNotFound & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 23
Kudos: 255





	ice in your veins

**Author's Note:**

> This is solely about the CHARACTERS!! Not the actual people!! 
> 
> Don't be cringe y'all

Fundy falls to the ground. 

He lies in the snow. He drifts further away every second. 

Fundy falls to the ground, chokes on the blood in his throat, and doesn’t want to die. 

Fundy falls to the ground, and there is no one there to hold him, to comfort him. 

No dead dad, no loving granddad, no uncles, no friends, no husband. 

No husband there to hold him, and that is what hurts the most. 

No Dream to cry over his body when his soul leaves for the last time, no Dream there to hold him, to hug, to tell him he loves him one last time, even if it is just another lie. 

No Dream because he is gone, and Fundy is dying and he’s going to bleed out here in the snow because Technoblade is a stone-cold killer, and the voices in his head demand blood. 

Technoblade at least had the decency to look apologetic, even giving him a lingering brush to his cheek, as he speared him through on his sword, gently holding him up with uncharacteristic softness, before removing the sword slowly, and letting him fall to the ground. Fundy had clutched on to his robe, and then his body had become weak, and he had fallen, and Technoblade walked off, sword dragging in the snow. 

And now he is here, and he is dying for the last time, and he _doesn’t want to go._

_Please don’t make me go._

His body starts to fail him first, and then his mind starts to drift, and in the haze of choking on blood and bleeding out, his mind makes him see that mask, the mask of Dream, and he thinks that this is just cruel. 

“-undy! Fundy!” And Dream’s calling his name, calling and screaming, and his hands are on his face and Fundy curses his mind and his heart for this goddamn apparition, and he hates himself for still being so desperately in love with this man, and he hates and hates how real this feels, and it only vaguely computes that perhaps this might be real, but that couldn’t be, because why would Dream, Dream of all people, be here? 

Why would he be here?

“Fundy! Fundy please!” Dream’s hands go to his wound and press down, and his inventory pops up, looking for something to help, probably, and it hurts, it hurts that this is the last thing Fundy will see, and it hurts because this is the life he hasn’t been able to have, the life of someone actually _caring_ because everyone he loves just leaves and leaves and it hurts that Dream is here, when he shouldn’t be. 

He shouldn’t be. 

Everything hurts, in the way freezing and bleeding to death probably would- too hot and too cold and too sticky from the blood, and the unrelenting weight of the knowledge that death is coming, coming, coming and won’t stop. 

And Dream is still there, his hands on Fundy, and Fundy just wants to die already, just to get it over with. 

It’ll be his last one.

He won’t miss living. 

Dream’s hands are on his face and Fundy can’t focus on what this ghost is saying, and then the mask comes off in one smooth move by Dream, and he’s crying, and he’s so startlingly beautiful that it makes Fundy smile, even with blood in his teeth and his eyes trying to drift closed.

“No! Fundy don’t you fucking dare, don’t you fucking dare die on me! Please, gods, Fundy!” Dream’s voice is desperate and choked, and his hands press down on Fundy’s wound, and he barely even feels the pain that sparks from the touch. “C’mon, please! I’ve never loved you like I should’ve, please just let me love you! I’ve been the worst husband you could ever ask for, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, please let me try again!” 

Fundy just smiles, and laughs a little through the blood in his throat. “I’ve always loved you,” he tries to say, but he’s not sure the words are at all comprehensible. He should yell at him. 

He should yell at him, for all those times Dream made him hate himself, for their disaster of a love life, for constantly manipulating him by making him think that he was the one at fault for all the time Dream spent away from their home, for loving George more than him. 

He doesn’t feel like yelling.

He should.

Dream deserves it, he deserves every bit of it for all the broken _I love you_ ’s he had given to Fundy. For all the pain he had put Fundy through as well. 

He deserves it, but Fundy can’t. Not now while he’s bleeding out in the snow, body failing, mind drifting. Not now, even though nothing is stopping this from being another one of Dream’s fake displays of emotion, powerful and moving, enough so that it would make you feel terrible and so bad for him, and he could immediately go and stab you in the back. And you would never even know. 

That was the kind of manipulation and mind games Dream would use. He would say George’s name instead of his when buying flowers from Puffy and Niki, and then say it was an accident and then give those flowers to Fundy, and kiss him with such gentleness that it would all seem okay and you would really believe it was just an accident.

(It was never an accident.)

He was a faceless man who hid his emotions behind that mask of his, dispensing out imitations of emotion that were never real.

But Fundy still can’t yell at him, because what good would his last words be if they are words of anger, words of hate for a man he could never really hate. 

So instead, despite the fact that this might just be an apparition of a dying mind, he says, “I love you.”

The last thing he hears is a tormented scream from the man holding him, and then he wakes up cold.

-

Dream brings his body back to L’Manberg.

It is the least he could do.

Ranboo, the half enderman, half undisclosed, is the first one to see them, stepping out of his home and watching with wide heterochromatic eyes, as Dream puts Fundy’s body on the stage where the attempted execution of Technoblade took place, and all but collapses to the ground next to him, head in his hands. 

There's blood staining his clothes, and his fingers are frozen from sitting in that tundra for so long. 

Long enough that Fundy’s blood had mixed in and frozen with the snow.

Ranboo slowly makes his way down, has half a sense to ring Philza’s doorbell on the way, pausing just long enough for Phil to answer the door before continuing his slow walk down to the stage. 

Phil’s mouth drops open, and he stares and stares, and his eyes are thousands of miles away. 

Thousands of miles away, and then he’s sprinting forward to his dead grandson’s side, and holding him, and whispering, and Dream vaguely feels himself start crying again, watching as Fundy’s body rests limply in Phil’s arms.

He wishes it were him dead, not innocent, pure Fundy, who only ever wanted to be loved. 

Who was never loved like he should've been. 

“What happened,” Phil growls out, his words clipped. 

“Technoblade. I don’t- I don’t know how or why,” Dream answers.

“ _Gods_ , Techno,” Phil curses, drops his forehead against Fundy’s cold one. 

“I’ll kill him,” Dream whispers, nails digging into his biceps painfully. He doesn’t feel it. 

Phil grits his teeth, snarling a curse. “A death for a death. A son for a son.” 

“I’ll kill him,” Dream whispers harsher this time, like a promise. 

“I couldn’t stop you if I tried,” Phil’s voice is pained, like he wants to scream. 

-

Dream falls asleep next to George, with all of their blankets, and he has never been colder. 

In the middle of the night, he wakes from the cold, squeezing his eyes shut and wrapping his arms around himself. 

Something drips onto his cheek. He flinches, moving his hand to wipe at it, and slowly opening his eyes. 

His eyes snap open when he sees it, hanging above the bed, clothes and hair floating like underwater, an arm slowly stretching towards Dream’s face. The skin is pale and frosted, and the tears down his cheeks are ice, and there’s blood dripping from a wound in his chest, and a dead Fundy’s all-white eyes stare into his. 

Dream yelps, scatters out of bed, and then it’s gone, and he’s left with stuttering, heaving breaths, a worried boyfriend, and an apparition burned into his eyelids. 

-

He sees him in the morning, it’s Fundy in the mirror instead of him, and then as he’s walking the path of L’Manberg, he sees him around Tommy’s house, simply standing and watching as Dream makes his way through the nation. 

He sees him as he’s walking with Eret, Fundy standing at the end of the path before the long stairs down. He pauses, staring, staring, and Eret notices. 

“Dream?” Eret asks, and hesitates before placing a hand on his arm. Dream startles, and Fundy is gone. 

“Did- did you see that?” Dream asks, eyes locked on where the ghost was standing. 

“See- see what?” Eret asks looking around. 

“Nothing, never mind,” Dream answers softly, but when they pass through the spot where Fundy’s ghost stood, he doesn’t think he imagines the breath of cold air that ghosts his cheek. 

-

Ghostbur likes his new friend. 

Fundy doesn’t talk as much anymore, communicates more like he did as a young child, stuttering through long words, small noises of pleasure and displeasure being substituted for actually talking a good bit of the time. He’s very interested in bright lights, when they take a trip to the nether, Ghostbur had to keep him from walking into the lava more than a couple times. He doesn’t like the color red, and loves the color blue. He will spend whole days with Friend, hands buried in the sheep’s blue coat. 

He looks different now, his eyes, all white and forever staring, and frozen tears that never dissipate, and frozen eyelashes and pale bluish skin, blue lips, frost-bitten fingers. 

But Ghostbur is just happy to have his son back. 

-

It’s a good two weeks before anyone else sees Fundy. Dream knows because he walks in on Ranboo attempting to hold a conversation with the ghost in their old ice cream shop, but Fundy seems very distracted by every little thing, which makes for difficult conversation. Dream turns around and leaves like he was never there

Wilbur and Fundy seem to like getting into shenanigans, whether it be through minor theft or just generally annoying people. Philza seems to be one of their main targets, Ranboo too. They both take it in stride- sheltering them when the rain comes and putting up with their minor inconveniencing. Phil just seems happy to have two of his family members nearby and happy again. 

Fundy, Wilbur, and Friend are constantly seen parading around L’Manberg and the surrounding areas. 

It doesn’t take long for their next run-in.

He doesn’t expect them to be sitting in front of the big portrait of Quackity, whispering like young children and giggling. They have something in between them that they’re bent over. 

He stands and watches and selfishly wishes that Technoblade had killed him instead, so he wouldn’t have to be the one still living. 

Fundy looks up, towards the stairs, and startles slightly. Dream takes a step back, unnerved by the terrifying dissimilar face that he once knew by heart, even though he sees it every night hanging above him in his bed. (He’s been getting closer recently, his fingers being able to brush Dream’s cheek now.) 

Fundy cocks his head at him, like a puppy, and grins just slightly. He stares, almost unblinkingly, before Ghostbur notices and turns, looking to Dream. He gasps, shooting up. 

“Dream! Dream look! Fundy’s here! Look! We’re messing up Quackity’s portrait!” he giggles, jumping up and down. 

“C’mere, you can help!” Fundy waves him over with a big smile that he hasn’t seen in too long. Ghostbur comes over and grabs Dream’s hand, pulling him over to their spot before plopping down next to Fundy and resuming their conversation. Dream slowly makes his way over, almost as if in a trance, and sits down next to Fundy too. He’s incredibly grateful for his mask, because he wants to cry again. 

All he’s been doing for a long time is crying. 

Fundy and Ghostbur giggle, flipping the papers upside down over and over again, trying to figure out how to make their own portrait. Dream gently takes a paper from Fundy and a paper strewn out on the floor and fits the sides together to show part of a picture. 

“Puzzle!” Fundy claps, and grabs another two, holding them up and frowning as he tries to fit them together, then picking up another when it didn’t fit properly. 

Dream watched, and watched, as Fundy’s face took on such a young and innocent look to it, as he frowned and cocked his head at the papers. Slowly, Dream felt himself reach up and shift the mask, eventually pulling it off. 

“Found it!” Fundy cries, holding a pair that matched up proudly. He looks to Ghostbur, grinning, then to Dream. He freezes, surprised at the actual face of Dream. Then, he gasps, pictures forgotten, and leans in close to Dream, peering at his face with such intent, like it’s the most beautiful thing out there. Dream doesn’t know how- he’s pretty sure he hasn’t closed his mouth this entire time, his mouth slightly agape, lips never sealed, and he looks like a mess, he knows he does. Little to no sleep and completely forgetting to take care of himself since Fundy’s death does that to a person. But Fundy doesn’t care. 

Fundy’s looking at him like he’s Icarus and Dream is the sun, enchanted and mesmerized, his white eyes searching over Dream’s face, his blue lips parted in something like awe. 

Dream has never been so lost, nor so heartbroken. 

-

He _is_ getting closer as the nights progress. 

Fundy’s hand holds his cheek, and if he tried, Dream could pull him down for a hug. He doesn’t panic at the sight anymore, his heart doesn’t race. 

Last night, he cried, and Fundy wiped his tears away. 

In the morning, George either didn’t notice or didn’t comment on his obviously tear-stained face and pillow. He doesn't comment on his deteriorating appearance, or his worsening motor function, as he drops a glass for the second time this week. 

George doesn’t notice, or doesn’t care, and as Fundy slowly kisses Dream, his lips brittle and cold, Dream doesn’t feel bad that George is right next to him. 

When he wakes up that morning, his lips are still blue. 

-

“I’m sorry,” Dream whispers to Fundy one day, as they sit and watch the sunset from the top of the hill. His knees are pulled to his chest, and he’s spent more time watching Fundy than actually watching the sunset. Fundy watches the sky change colors with wonder on his features. 

“You can’t keep the sun from setting, Dream,” Fundy answers, smiling at him. 

Dream smiles back. It doesn’t reach his eyes. “I’m sorry for everything I did, for every lie I told, for every _I love you_ that I didn’t mean. I’m sorry for using you, for making you hurt and cry and want to die. I’m sorry Fundy.” He doesn’t think too much about the words he’s saying, he just needs to say them. Fundy won’t remember them anyway. “I killed Technoblade.” (It was too easy. Techno had allowed himself to die.)

Fundy, with his simple outlook on life, says, “Will I see him soon?” He stares directly at the sun, but it doesn’t hurt him. 

“I’m afraid I’ll have to kill him a couple more times for that to happen,” Dream answers. “But he’ll never hurt you again.”

Something changes in Fundy’s face, and his gaze shifts to a far away point. “Again?” Dream waits. Fundy stares, the golden sun reflected against his tears of ice. 

“Oh, Dream!” Fundy eventually says, snapping out of his almost remembrance, forgetting their conversation. “Hi! How long have you been here?”

-

It’s one thing to miss your boyfriend. It’s another thing to be jealous of said boyfriend’s dead ex. 

It’s _another_ thing to _have_ to be jealous of said boyfriend’s dead ex. 

George shouldn’t have to be jealous of anyone, let alone someone who is literally a ghost. 

It’s not that he’s jealous, not really. It’s just that he doesn’t know how to handle this situation, with the man you love slowly drifting away, pulled to Fundy’s ghost like a magnet to metal. 

He doesn’t know what to do. 

George is many things, but empathetic is not usually one of those things, not in this capacity. 

Where is the line drawn between grief and something more, as Dream drifts further away every day? When should he point out those too-late nights, the far-away stares, the bags under the eyes and the tears at night? When is there a respectable time to try and help Dream in a greater capacity?

He was more than ready to get him some more help, when the mutterings of a ghost on the ceiling started, one that no one else could see. But now, others can see Fundy, and Dream seems like he’s going even crazier now. 

If that was even possible.

George tries to convince himself that it’s just grief, it’s just Dream being haunted by someone he used to love (he always said he never really loved Fundy, but Geroge never believed that).

George can’t remember the last they had a proper, loving conversation. It’s been pleasantries and kisses that feel like Dream is trying to kiss someone else. He doesn’t know why he stays, so one day he doesn’t.

Sapnap’s couch is always open, so he takes advantage of it for one night. _One night,_ he tells himself. _One night and then things will go back to normal._

Dream doesn’t even notice. 

(Dream spends the whole night with a ghost in George’s spot in the bed, holding him with such gentleness. He’s right; Dream hardly even notices George is gone.)

One night turns into two, turns into a week, turns into two, and then George is helping Sapnap build an extension to his home, a bedroom for a man who never wants to lie in that bed and not be enough again.

**Author's Note:**

> i was gonna upload this before today's (yesterday's actually its 1am currently) stream (jan. 6th), but then i didn't. whoops


End file.
